Let Me Come Home - Larry Stylinson

Louis slammed the door to his flat as hard as he could and slid against it down onto the floor, bringing his hands up to his hair and tugging in frustration. He pulled at the roots of his styled hair until the pain grew stronger than his anger and relaxed his tensed body.

The "Take Me Home" tour had just finished and all the boys had gone their separate ways as quickly as their flights could take them away. Louis was the last to catch a flight out if Japan back to England in hopes that Harry would stay behind with him, but never received a response to the text message invitation. He spent the entire flight back home fuming at his stupidity, feeling like he should've known Harry would turn him down after the stunt management pulled with Eleanor. The thought alone made Louis tense with anger all over again, but he was simply tired of being angry with himself and let a wave of sadness wash over him.

The sound of his phone vibrating from inside his bag caught his attention, but only for a moment. He kicked the luggage as hard as he could, sending it sliding across the floor and into the living room. He was in no mood to answer any text messages after spending hours upon hours waiting for one from Harry saying he stayed behind in Japan and was on his way to Louis' hotel room. Needless to say, it never came. When Louis woke up holding his phone to his chest and the sunlight pouring across an empty bed, he'd never felt more broken. He knew Harry had been slipping from him the past year, and this drove the metaphorical nail into the metaphorical coffin that had become their love life.

Louis knew this was coming, he had known it would happen the moment they were forced to stop living together and Harry barely put up a fight. He shed a few tears, packed his bags, and left. He wasn't sure why Harry even held on for as long as he did, or why he'd still come around on the loneliest of nights; filling Louis with this temporary bliss that left his heart aching for weeks when he'd wake up the next morning and their once shared flat was as empty and lonely as the hour before Harry had even arrived.

He let out a long, loud, and exasperated groan; unable to decide if he wanted to explode with rage or collapse with emotional exhaustion. Deciding that destroying his home wouldn't get him anywhere he allowed his body to slump even farther down against the door and slipped into his thoughts; memory after memory playing behind his eyes.

Harry's young face beaming with a smile when they signed their lease to the flat. Shadows of raindrops falling down Harry's body the time they made love during a thunderstorm and forgot to close the blinds. Their first fight and the way Harry's face twisted with anger then softened into sadness before breaking down and crying into Louis' chest for two hours. The time they got drunk and stayed up until sunrise; the array of colors and clouds and dew on the grass still seeming second to none compared to Harry's sleepy smile. When they were forced to hide what they really were and laid in their unkept bed for half the day contemplating running away.

Louis wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was ripped from his slide show of memories by the sound of his phone vibrating again. He wanted to ignore it and sink back into the heart wrenching flashbacks, but a larger part of him was grateful for the distraction. He pushed his body off the floor and walked over to the luggage that had come to rest on the living room floor.

Just before reaching it, he absentmindedly looked around the lonely room and stopped abruptly when he's eyes landed on a single white envelope which sat alone on the coffee table. He stood in place, staring at it, for what seemed like ages. He wondered how it got there, but somehow already knew. No one else even had a key to get in, and the chances of someone breaking in just to leave a letter were outlandish.

He crossed the short distance in a few strides and picked it up, opening it as fast as his fingers could manage. He wished for a long, drawn out, overwrought letter describing their unrequited love. When he pulled out a single sheet of paper he expected the worse. He expected to unfold it and be met with rejection in writing; that would, after all, be much more like Harry. To skip rejecting Louis' offer to stay overnight in Japan via text and just beat him home to leave a hand written letter and the key to the flat that he still had, usually adoring it around his neck attached to a long chain.

With a deep inhale, Louis unfolded the paper and braced for the worse.

Louis,

I miss you.

-H x

Louis stared at the nearly blank paper until the sight of black ink contrasted against white paper was burned into his eye sight so he saw the words even when he blinked. It said so little yet said so much all at the same time and it left Louis feeling blindsided. His head felt heavy, his body slack, and his mind foggy. He was just about to fall back onto the couch when once again, for the third time, his phone vibrating brought him back to reality. He damned the infernal device and rushed over to his luggage, rummaging through it and pulling it out with anger.

His breath hitched at the pending notifications, which he read in order over and over again.

Harry: I should have said yes.

Harry: Let me make it up to you.

Harry: Please, Louis. Let me come back home.